


Magnolia

by aph_dansk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, royalty/commoner au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aph_dansk/pseuds/aph_dansk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus is having troubles on his farm, but maybe a job on the Baron's personal fields would be the best way to keep his family afloat. He was expecting long, hard work days in the heat, but what he wasn't expecting was to make a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Denmark=Magnus  
> Sweden=Berwald

                Magnus gazed out at the field, an ear of corn in his hand. The plants were only up to his chin, and the one he held was barely the size of his hand, from his fingertips to the base of his palm. It was already time to harvest the crop, but it was clear this wouldn’t be enough to sell, much less feed his family.

                “I just don’t understand. Why aren’t the crops growing enough?” Magnus mused to himself.

                “The soil’s tired. Needs time to rest ‘nd get its’ nutrients back.” Startled, Magnus turned around to see his brother, Berwald, standing behind him, looking out at the crops with an absent stare.

                Magnus cursed himself for not noticing Berwald sooner, accidentally giving him the opportunity to see such weakness. Sure, his brother was only two years younger than himself, but Magnus still wanted to protect him. As the oldest, it was his job to make sure his younger siblings were safe, and with the current food situation, he was failing at his job.

                He tried to make himself look strong and authoritative before asking, “How long have you been standing there?” Even with his mild glare and slightly puffed chest, his voice had a questioning air and the look of shock in his eyes hadn’t faded.

                Berwald snorted at the performance. “Long enough to see you brooding over the crops for the hundredth time this week.”

                After a moment of thought, Magnus lowered his shoulders and decided to turn to his brother for help. Even though Berwald was younger, he _was_ pretty smart. “So how do I fix it?” He asked, taking another glance at the dwarfed corn stalks.

                “Don’t grow anything for a year.”

                There was no way he could possibly do that. Then he _really_ wouldn’t be able to feed his family. He couldn’t even sell the crops from this harvest to buy more. “How about a solution that doesn’t leave us with absolutely no food?” Magnus responded.

                Berwald seemed to consider this for a moment, before coming up with another idea. “Don’t grow anything on one side for a year, then the next year grow your crops on that side and leave the other empty. It’ll give us some food and still help the soil.”

                That seemed like a good idea, but even that wouldn’t provide everyone with enough food. Magnus, his four siblings, and his father all couldn’t survive a year with only a half of the crops they make. Since he didn’t really have an option, though, Magnus decided that that idea would be best. He’d make it work, somehow.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Looking at the list of items to buy, Magnus made his way through the bustling market. Fortunately, he still had some money saved from the sales of last year’s harvest, which he would use to buy whatever food they didn’t have. He had already gotten potatoes, salt, and beef, and looked around for extra vegetables. It seemed that everyone else was suffering from poor soil, too; the vegetables looked a little on the small side. He decided to buy a few heads of cabbage, as they were big and cheap. With his remaining money, Magnus bought some small apples and a few scraps of fabric.

                On his way out, he stopped by the bulletin board to see what was being offered. Not much, mostly people asking for jobs, saying “Farmhand Available.” There was a surplus of workers, but not enough work.

                Just as he was about to leave, a small, blond man hurriedly came up to the board and attached a piece of paper. He was dressed more finely than the others, but not to the point where he’d be a noble, and his paper was an actual full piece of white paper, unlike the old scraps most others had written their notes on. He looked at Magnus before scurrying off again. Magnus figured it had to have been important, since a messenger was sent, and decided to check it out before leaving.

                The paper was adorned with a border of thick red swirls, the careful print reading “Farmers Needed for Baron’s New Estate. Housing Will Be Provided Along with Land for Personal Use. 15 Kilometres East of Open Market.”

                This could be it. This could be the way that Magnus keeps his family afloat. If he takes the job, that would be one less person to feed in the household, and he could also use the land given to him to send some food back. Magnus knew though, that people would be tripping over themselves rushing to get this job, and knew he had to be first to ensure he got a position. It was about a three hour walk, so he figured he’d leave after he dropped off the food at home.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                “Guys! I’m home!” Magnus’ call rang through the small house, and soon he was surrounded by three small children, all seeing what he had in his basket. “Hey, slow down, guys! I won’t be able to give you the stuff if you’re crowding me like this,” he said, laughing.

                Magnus sat down on the floor with them, pulled out the sack of apples and handed it to Preben, his youngest brother. The kid was only five, but he already had a strange love for green apples. How he liked them escaped Magnus; he thought they were too sour. He watched amusedly as the toddler held an apple up to the light, looking at it from every direction.

Turning to his two sisters, he took the fabric out of the basket. They were learning to sew, and liked to make clothes for their dolls. The fabrics were mostly blue and cream, as they were the cheapest dyes. The two young girls’ eyes widened as they saw the cloth. “Astrid picked which one she got first last time, so now Laura gets first pick,” Magnus said, holding the swatches in his hand. Laura chose a pale blue piece, followed by Astrid taking the cream colored swatch. They both got a piece of dark blue cloth, too. “Thanks so much, Magnus!” All three children said, beaming.

Magnus ruffled their hair. “Any time, kids.” He stood up, stretching. “I’m going to be going out for a little while, but I’ll be back before sundown, probably.” He shrugged. It depended on how long it would take to ask about the job.

Berwald looked at him quizzically. “Where are you going?” He figured it must have been pretty far away if Magnus would be gone practically all day long.

“There’s a job offering a little ways away.” Seeing Berwald’s stare, the stare that said “this is ridiculous, why would you leave us for some small job,” Magnus rushed onwards, saying, “It’s at the Baron’s new estate, and they’re offering a place to stay on the farm plus some land for personal use, so I can grow extra crops there and possibly bring them home for you guys, and I bet the soil there is of better quality, and-“

He was cut off by his brother, saying, “Why don’t I come with? I could see if I could get a job there, too. We’d make more money that way.”

Magnus considered this for a moment, but ultimately said no. “We need someone to tend to the crops here, and to do the idea you thought of to fix the crops. Plus, who would watch out for the little ones? I want to make sure they’re raised well enough.”

“You’re going to be three hours away, not on the other side of the world.” Berwald did have a point, but even so, Magnus would be living full time away from them, and would probably only get to visit on rare occasions. He used this point against Berwald.

“Plus, you’re only seventeen. You need to be an adult to get a job like this.” Magnus added. With his solid argument, he put on his boots and coat. “I’ll be back by sunset to make dinner and to tell you if I even got the job. Until then, just stay here. Help Astrid and Laura with their sewing, teach them how to sew buttons today.” He turned to the children. “Alright guys, I’ll be back soon! Just hang with Berwald until I get back!” With that, he headed out the door.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three hours was a really long way to walk. It wasn’t the walking that bothered Magnus so much; he was capable enough to cover the distance easily. He didn’t like the fact that there was nothing to preoccupy his mind, and he had to go in silence, alone with his thoughts.

He mostly thought of his family. The three youngest were all under twelve, and mostly unaware of the issues on the farm. They had no idea how soil nutrients worked, or how much food is needed to feed a family of six, or how to balance time so that you could cook three meals a day, farm crops, and teach three children while still getting enough sleep.

 _This wouldn’t be so hard if mother was still here,_ he thought. She had passed away a few years ago, shortly after Preben had been born. There were some complications with the birth, and while he came out okay, his mother wasn’t so fortunate. Initially, his father took over all of the household chores, but his old age was getting to him. Being the oldest, Magnus took care of the family then. Of course, if he got the job, he wouldn’t be there to do the chores. He hated to put all of his jobs onto Berwald, but this way would give them more food and money. It’s better to have his siblings busy than starving, after all.

With that thought, he had arrived at the gates of the mansion. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and slowly pushed open the tall, black metal gate, entering the front garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the first fic I've ever written so constructive criticism would be helpful! I saw a post a super long time ago about an au where Norway is nobility and Denmark is just a commoner, and I've wanted to write it for a while and I just got a computer. Also, I was thinking of Denmark's siblings being Åland, Faeroe, and Greenland, but they aren't really anyone in particular. Tell me what you think of it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timo=Finland

                Stepping through the front gates was like stepping into a new world to Magnus. The lush green lawn was adorned by carefully manicured topiary, with some workers on ladders, trimming off any unruly leaves. While the cobblestone path wasn’t the best for his aching feet, it fit perfectly into the garden. It was now late in the afternoon, and the temperature was starting to drop. Magnus admired the quiet peace of the garden, before one of the workers asked what he was looking for.

                “Oh, um, I came here for the job posting? They said they needed farmers for the Baron?” As Magnus spoke, he realized he sounded much more uncertain than he expected. He wondered if maybe he had the wrong place, or if the positions were already filled and he wasn’t needed. However, his worries were abated when the worker pointed him to the right of the enormous castle, where he could see a sliver of a small building. He thanked the worker, heading in that direction with the lightest footsteps as possible since the path didn’t extend that way and he didn’t want to ruin the grass.

                Magnus had to walk around the castle, as it mostly covered his view of the building he was sent to. It was made of large cream colored bricks, and far taller than he could have ever imagined. He had never seen a castle in real life before. Magnus mused about how many people could live there. _With all of the rooms, it must be able to hold over one hundred people!_ He imagined ballroom dancing in rooms under an endless ceiling, feasting on a meal sitting at the head of a table stretching all the way across the room, and practicing the violin in a quiet room overlooking the gardens. _Okay, maybe that was too ambitious._ He had never even seen a violin, but it sounded like something that would be beautiful. _But dreaming is what makes us human, isn’t it? Okay really, enough sentimentality._ He quickly came back to reality and continued walking. He realized he had been standing at the side of the castle for too long, just staring at it. Even worse, he wasn’t an official worker yet, so it probably looked like he was some thief, standing too close to the castle to just be passing by. Magnus quickly turned and continued to walk to the building to the right.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The building was about four times the size of his house, and while it was nothing fancy, it was certainly in better condition, too. Hesitating for a moment, Magnus knocked lightly. He rocked back and forth on his heels while waiting for an answer. Soon, when none came, he raised his hand to knock again, but before his hand reached the door, it opened. It was the same boy as the one he saw posting the paper.

                “Um, I came for the job listing? It was on the notice board at the market?” With every conversation he had, he lost a little more confidence. _Oh man, what if I wasn’t supposed to come here? What if I went to the wrong building? Was there some system or thing I had to do before I get the job?_

                “Yeah, I’ll show you around,” the other man (messenger? Another farmer? Overseer?) said, turning around and heading back into the building. _That was it? It was that easy?_

                “My name’s Timo, by the way. I’m the messenger of this estate, but right now I’m also overseeing the employment of the new farmers.” Timo showed Magnus around the cots, which were lined up in rows in the biggest room of the building, around twenty of them total. They were newer looking, made of a light colored unfinished wood. The beds were neatly made, with cream colored sheets, as if they were never slept in. Extending above the bed on wooden slats were shelves to keep personal things like combs and lye soap. It looked like two beds near the door were already occupied, as their sheets had a few loose ends and some trinkets were on their shelves.

                The room to the right of the back of the bedroom was a kitchen for use of the workers. Since they were given some land to farm for themselves, they had the kitchen to prepare their food. There were two wood operated stoves and an oven to the left, and to the right there were shelves with labels to separate different people’s food. There was a spice rack, but the little containers were empty. Magnus made a mental note of buying spices with some of his money, because otherwise the food would be too bland.

                The next and last room, which came off the side of the kitchen in the direction to the front of the room, was the storage room for the washboards and buckets. For such a large room, it made Magnus wonder if it was originally used for something else.

                “So, we already have two people who are working here, so you can have any bed except for the ones with stuff on the shelves.” Magnus thought briefly, before he chose the bed closest to the window at the end of the room, setting his bag on the bed before turning back to Timo. Timo told him that the pay was 50 krone weekly, and he was given a third of an acre for personal use.

                “I just need to run back to my house to tell my family that I got the job, though.” He walked towards the door, but Timo stopped him by saying, “Oh, you see, we only have so many positions, and we can’t really reserve them, so if you leave, I can’t guarantee you’ll get the job.”

                Magnus didn’t know what to do. He had to stay here to get the job, because nobody knows if it’ll still be there tomorrow, but at the same time he can’t _not_ go because his family might think he ran away or got ambushed by bandits or _something._ Then he remembered who Timo was.

                “Well, um, I need to tell my family that I got here safely, so can I send my message with you if that’s okay? Like if you happen to go back into town or something, but it’s okay if you’re too busy with other stuff…” Magnus trailed off, not wanting to impose too much in fear that his boss might get the wrong impression about him, and think he’s someone who asks too much.

                Luckily, Timo didn’t seem like the kind of person to pass judgment too quickly. “I have to go back into town to buy salt, so I’ll definitely deliver your message,” Timo said, smiling. That most definitely lifted a burden from Magnus, and also saved him the long walk. He told Timo how to get to his family’s farm, and wrote a small letter to his family saying that he got the job, but couldn’t come back that day, and he would write letters until he could visit again. Timo took the letter and left.

                Magnus flopped down onto his bed, resting for a minute before turning to his bag and beginning to unpack it. Even though he planned to go back home before working, he did pack his personal items because he wanted to leave his stuff to mark his territory (which is only his bed, but he felt more important when he said “territory”). He dusted off his shelf before lining his personal belongings up in an organized manner. All the walking had really taken the energy out of him, and he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been eighty four years.... actually 84 days (I checked!) Ok I know I almost abandoned this fic but here's chapter 2! You see, right after I posted the first chapter I realized I hadn't done my summer assignments (I had one for every class) and then school started and I'm in IB so it was killer getting adjusted and all. I actually completely forgot about this fic for a while but when cleaning out my emails I saw one about kudos on this fic so I continued it. I didn't have much motivation/inspiration but it's back now! I already have the whole story planned out, I just have to write the rest of it. And I might not update for like two weeks, but after that is Thanksgiving break so I'll write most of the story then! So sorry for the wait, but soon I'll write even more, I already have chapters 3 and 4 thought out in the details!  
> Also, this is how the farmers' house looks: http://s15.postimg.org/ch69xgdln/Untitled.png the bottom of the picture is the front of the building.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindre=Norway

_I sit before flowers hoping they will train me in the art of opening up – Shane Koyczan_

                Sindre gazed out the window. This cramped house was too stuffy for him, but he had nowhere to go. Sure, there were the gardens, but it could get hot and he didn’t fare well under the sun too long. He didn’t take a liking to nature too much; the closest he’s gotten to it is vases filled with cut flowers.

                To be fair, he didn’t necessarily need to go outside to see the outside. These windows in his quarters were enough to see everything; his room was on the third story, with three lancet ceiling-to-floor windows on one wall overlooking the fields. Most people said that a view of agricultural fields didn’t make much of a view, but Sindre begged to differ. It was nice to see the pale green points push through the soil and grow to be tall plants. Plus, other than his brother, parents, and teacher, the farmers were the only people he saw on a regular basis, even if they never looked at him.

                If he were younger, he would probably wander around the new house, examining every nook and cranny. However, he was eighteen, and didn’t feel the need to ponder every speck of dust for ten minutes before moving on to the next. Don’t get him wrong, he did look over the house thoroughly when he moved there, but instead of playing in the parlor he now preferred to stay in his room with his thoughts.

                He had heard that they were going to be hiring new farmers this week. When they moved to this house, there were already a handful of farmers who already worked on the land from the last baron. The Rasmus family had only been living here for a month or so, but they soon learned that they needed more workers, given the amount of food consumed in the household. This just meant more people for Sindre to see.

                He picked up a book. Flipping to the page he left off on, he reread the same passage he’d been reading all day long. Every time he tried to get back into it, his eyes would glaze over. As much as he tried to care about the lineage of the other nobles in the area, he just couldn’t focus on them long enough to read more than a paragraph. Surely there had to be more to life than this. All he’d ever known was large castles, elegant parties, and extravagant dinners. He knew from his studies that there were peasants who were less well off than him, but he couldn’t imagine it since he’d only left his house once, and that was to get into a (very finely made) carriage and move to a new house. He _needed_ to see what else there was out there.

                The book soon found itself back on the table it was on five minutes ago, and Sindre also found himself back at the window. This time, he at least tried to do something productive. He took his violin from its rest, straightened his posture, and began to play a slow, gentle tune. His eyes held a faraway look in them, and it wasn’t hard to tell that he was no longer there mentally.

                As he finished a third song, his eyes drifted back to the window. The farmers had finally risen, and began to tend to the plants. He continued to play for the rest of the hour, until he turned back to the window, unable to concentrate. He stared at the workers moving among the rows until something caught his eye. One of the farmers had looked up at his window, waved at him, then went back to work. Sindre soon realized that he was probably staring at the worker for a while. He didn’t look familiar, and knowing how Sindre’s little hobby of watching them allowed him to have a basic knowledge of the appearances of all the farmers, he was probably one of the new hires. 

                That was a first. No worker has ever acknowledged his presence, much less wave at him. He lowered his violin, looking more intently out the window. The new worker was tall, much taller than the others. Sindre couldn’t tell his height from there, but the way he towered over the plants was enough of a measurement to see that he would probably be taller than himself. From a distance, it was hard to see too much of him, but Sindre could see his messy dark blond hair poking out from under his hat and his tanned arms past the short sleeves of his shirt. His speed in work was unrivaled by the others, possibly from working on a farm in the past.

                Sindre didn’t quite know what he thought, which was a first. He didn’t know if he should think of the friendly gesture as anything, or if it was even 100 percent without a doubt to him. He didn’t know if not waving back could have been perceived as rude to the worker, or if the worker didn’t know that it was rare to acknowledge each other. He didn’t know much about the workers themselves, now that he thought of it.

                He did know, though, that maybe getting some fresh air outside every once in a while couldn’t hurt.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Magnus was settling into his new house pretty fast. The building was nicely built, and the bed was softer than his own. He was glad he had made it to the job so soon, because the window by his bed had a nice view. He decided that he would buy a pot and some flower seeds to keep on the windowsill, if he had leftover money from his first pay.

                The first night, Magnus learned that the two beds in the front of the building were occupied by two young men who came back in from work at sunset. Their age was concerning to Magnus; one looked to be around seventeen and the other couldn’t be older than fifteen. He wouldn’t even let Berwald take a job, and he was seventeen. Magnus still understood how some families were hit harder by the economy, and decided not to think too much into it. He still was friendly to them, though. Being generally a people person, he definitely wanted to make friends with his new coworkers. Their names were Torys and Raivis, respectively. Magnus learned that he was actually right about their ages, which both surprised and concerned him to an extent.

                He met the other farmers, but they were all mostly autonomous and stuck to themselves. Magnus decided to mostly stick near Torys and Raivis; his older brother instinct drove him to look out for them. For the time being, though, they were doing most of the teaching. Magnus had only ever worked on his own farm, and the customs of larger ones with many workers were different. They taught him about from when to when they’d work, where his personal land was, when they would eat, and their days off. It was a Thursday, so they would have two more days of work; on Sundays they had the day off and were allowed to go anywhere.

                Working on a farm with other people was significantly easier than when he had to work on his own. The workload was spread over many people, instead of all the work on him. He also didn’t have to balance all of the chores like he did in his own household, which, while a slight relief, caused a pang of guilt at the thought of his siblings doing all the work. He knew that the feeling would go away when he got his paycheck and would be able to treat his whole family.

                Magnus’ first day was actually pretty nice. The sun was shining, he had people to work with, and it was easier to harvest large, fruitful crops than the small, shriveled up ones he had grown on his own land. While capable, it seemed that Torys and Raivis didn’t keep up with the pace of Magnus, and occasionally he would take some from his own basket and put it in theirs to make it more equal. They took a break in the middle of the day, resting in the shade with some water. Assessing the worker’s individual baskets, it seemed that Magnus was the fastest worker, but he wouldn’t say it (even in his mind) out of modesty. Torys and Raivis didn’t seem to be too far behind, but that could just be because of how much Magnus gave them.

                The day continued to heat up after the break, but the temperature began to plateau after a while. Magnus liked the work, it gave him a good exercise (which he’d been lacking since there wasn’t much to do in his own village other than walking around) and he liked the calm, repetitive fashion of it. After a while of working, he straightened his back, popping multiple joints as he did. He had a vague feeling that someone was watching him, but the other workers were busy with the crops to be watching him. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, trying to inconspicuously look around as he did. He expected to only see a worker nearby looking at him, maybe zoning out or something. He couldn’t find anyone at eye level looking at him, but as he cracked his neck to the left, he noticed a figure in a high window of the castle staring at him.

                The person was pale, with short, neatly combed platinum blond hair. He looked tall, but that could be because he was on the third floor looking down to the ground; he could be shorter than Magnus. Judging by the clothing he wore and the instrument he held in his hand ( _is that what a violin is?_ ), Magnus could guess that he was a highly ranked worker in the household, if not a noble. He was slim, and coupled with his paleness, Magnus thought that he looked like somewhat like a wraith. Magnus stood there, analyzing him for a minute, before waving to him. He didn’t know if it was uncommon for workers to wave to the upper class, but it felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want it to be awkward, with both of them just staring at each other.

                The figure blinked, before taking a small step back and lowering his violin. It looked like he hadn’t even been actively staring at him, like he had been spacing out. Magnus smiled at him; he knew the feeling of spacing out and coming back to reality only to see that he was accidentally staring at someone. Turning back to his work, he noticed Torys and Raivis looking at him weird. Okay, maybe it wasn’t normal to wave at the higher ups. He turned his head back to his work and didn’t look back up at the window until the workday was almost over, and by then the window was empty.

                The person in the window stayed in Magnus’ thoughts for the rest of the day. He thought it was interesting that he seemed to just stare out the window for fun. He looked about Magnus’ age, maybe a little younger, and if he was really the son of the baron or something, he would have a different pastime, like reading books or doing noble stuff. Even if he liked the outdoors, he could have teatime in a lush garden or something instead of staring at a farming field. It wasn’t an eyesore, but it wasn’t the most beautiful thing to look at, and even Magnus could see that.

                That night, Magnus made a mental list of what he would do with his first pay. This was a considerable amount of money; while it wasn’t enough to buy a castle like the one he worked next to, it was more than he was used to making. Buying extra food for his family was definitely on the top of the list, at least enough to survive them a while. Next came repairing the small leak in the roof; as winter approached he wouldn’t want the house to be filled with snow. He also wanted to buy firewood, some treats for the children, and of course, the flower seeds for his windowsill. If he thought of anything else, he could add it to the list before Sunday. With these things floating through his mind, he slowly drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norway is finally introduced!!!! Also, fuck fanon names. But really, I normally use Matthias/Lukas as their names, but since this was a historical kind of fic, I thought it would make more sense to have different names. Also, back then, their last names were based off of their father's (or sometime's mother's) first name, like if your dad was called "Rasmus" then your last name would be "Rasmussen" or "Rasmusdottir," [EDIT: I've been told that -dottir was only used in Iceland, and they would instead use -datter or -dotter] so that's what it means when I said "the Rasmus Family." Completely irrelevant, but I planned Magnus' dad's name to be Søren, so his last name would be Sørensen. I don't know if it'll ever come up in the story, so I might as well include it here.  
> Okay soo I know I said I'd update Thanksgiving break, buuuuut....... Better late than never! Plus, winter break is coming up! This chapter is slightly longer than the others also!  
> Anyways I'm in the middle of class so I might add more to the end notes after school. Also, my computer bluescreened after I made some small changes to the chapter, and I didn't have time to fix it, so yeah, those things might get put in tonight!


	4. Chapter 4

                The weekend came surprisingly fast for Magnus. He had seen the man in the window a few more times in the week, but it wasn’t too often; he probably had other royal stuff to do. The few times he saw him, Magnus would wave, and sometimes the man would wave back. It seemed that they had a wordless friendship, or at least acquaintanceship.

                Nonetheless, Magnus now had 50 krone in his pocket as he walked through the open market on his day off. He recited his grocery list as he walked: food, firewood, wood paneling for the roof, seasoning, treats, and flower seeds. He added seeds for real food to that list, since he would have to grow his own food. He couldn’t eat his flowers, after all.

                First came food for his family; there was no point buying firewood or fixing the house if they died of starvation. He was able to buy a few kilograms of salted beef, two loaves of bread, some carrots, and of course, more cabbage. Knowing they would probably be eating the food in soup form, he made a mental note to take some of the seasoning he bought for himself and give them to his family. Left with 30 krone, he made his way to his friend’s space in the market.

                Magnus had known Lars for about three years, when he had moved from the Netherlands. He had come because his hometown’s economy was failing, and the only place he could go was here, where a distant relative lived. Although said distant relative had since passed, Lars had been able to make a living by running this little shop with his sister.

                “Hey Lars, long time no see!” Magnus said, walking up to the market stall. His friend looked up at him and smiled softly.

                “Heard you got a job at the new baron’s place,” he said. Magnus was slightly confused as to how Lars already knew, when the only people that Magnus had told was his family. He figured that Berwald had probably passed through and told the others. It slightly concerned him; he was worried that Berwald might have run out of food so soon.

                “Yeah, the soil at my farm was exhausted, and I figured it’s better to get a job and buy food than starve,” Magnus shrugged.

                “I hear that,” Lars replied. “So, what do you need here?”

                Magnus looked around at what Lars had to sell. His shop was unlike the other places, it sold things people wanted other than food, such as wood, flower seeds, cloth, and plant pots, which was strange; most people didn’t waste money on aesthetics like flower pots. It was something he brought over from the Netherlands, and didn’t want to forget, so he continued to sell them, albeit in small numbers.

                “Uh, I need two pieces of wood, a few logs of firewood, a plant pot, and what kind of flower seeds do you have?” Lars gave him a questioning look.

                “Are you planning on growing a garden at the castle or something?”

                Magnus shrugged again. “I mean, I might as well. I can’t just live by the bare minimum, I have to have something that I like to pass the time.”

                “Well, if you plan on doing something for a long time, I’d suggest you don’t plant it in a pot. You get some land for personal use, right?”

                Magnus thought about that. He hadn’t actually thought about the size of the plants yet, he just knew that he wanted to grow some flowers. “Well, do you have flower seeds for pots? Along with ones planted in the ground, I mean.”

                Lars brought his crate of flower seeds onto the table, sifting through the packets. “Okay, so for a pot I’d say you should go with peonies, and I think you try hydrangeas and magnolias for your ground plants. I’m always getting new seeds coming in from different places, be sure to keep coming by in case I get something new,” he said, pulling out the three packets.

                Magnus took the three pouches, turning them over in his hand. They were plain cream scraps of fabric, pinned shut to keep the seeds from falling out. “Oh, and even though those seeds grow in the ground, you need to start them in a pot, or they won’t survive, especially with winter coming up. Keep them indoors until spring,” Lars continued, taking one small pot and two big ones.

                “So, these with the firewood and wood paneling, what’ll the total come up to?” Magnus took his money from his bag and began unfolding it.

                Lars looked at the items on the table, assessing the cost of each one. “I think 20 krone should do it.” Magnus grimaced at the cost, but ultimately paid for it. He decided to teach Berwald how to get his own firewood; it was too costly to buy it when there were trees all over.

                He turned to Manon’s area. While her brother dealt with the outdoorsy stuff, she mostly sold the indoor necessities, like seasonings, cloth, and small fruit, which was just Magnus’ luck, as those were the last three things he needed to buy. He decided to also buy a single potato while he was there, so that he could cut off the eyes and grow more potatoes. They were things he bought on a regular basis, so he just exchanged pleasantries, paid for the items, and headed on his way home.

* * *

 

                “Guys, I’m home!” Magnus’ call rang through the dilapidated house as he set his purchases on the table. At first it was quiet in the house, almost no response. Then, from the back of the room, he heard a small voice call out “Magnus?”

                In the blink of an eye, his three little siblings were running out of their room, crowding around him like they always do when he comes back from the market. This time, though, they did it with more love and intensity, as instead of only missing him for a few hours, he was gone for a few days.

                “So I see you guys missed me? Aww, I missed you too. Where’s Berwald?” He said, bending down to see them better.

                “He went to work on the farms, he should be back for lunch soon. Look at what I made!” Laura answered, showing him the miniature dress she made for her doll. The stitching was much neater than before and the buttons sewed on had an actual hole to go through. It was made out of the dark blue cloth that Magnus had gotten from the market the day he left for his job.

                “Wow, that looks really neat! You’re getting a lot better!” Magnus turned the doll over in his hand, examining the handiwork. “’How about after lunch I start to teach you guys about needle binding?”

                Magnus looked up as he heard the creak of the door opening. “Berwald! How’s it going, buddy?” Magnus called out as Berwald came in the house. Even though he had only been gone for a handful of days, Magnus was beginning to see some changes in Berwald. His skin was tanner and he looked like he was gaining a little bit of muscle, probably from spending his time working in the fields instead of the scullery work he used to do. Magnus also noticed the slump in his shoulders and the bags under his eyes, and felt a pang of guilt run through him.

                “Nice to see you’re back, Magnus. Are you going to be here for the afternoon? I’ll get lunch started in a little bit, let me just take a short rest,” Berwald replied, cracking his neck. Magnus felt even worse, he hadn’t realized that all of the household chores had been dumped on Berwald. He had expected the jobs to be distributed equally, but it was foolish to think that the little ones were capable of doing anything above their age level.

                “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make lunch. I bought some food while I was at the market today.” A wave of relief washed over Berwald’s face at the idea of not having to stay on his feet longer. “Astrid, why don’t you keep me company?” Magnus did want to spend time with his little sister, but he might as well kill two birds with one stone by starting to teach her how to cook. She was twelve, and while that wasn’t the ideal age to be working with fire, it was better than teaching Laura, who was only seven.

                As Magnus pulled out the pot and ingredients, he turned back to Astrid. “How about you fill up that pail with water? We’ll have soup today,” he said, nodding his head to the pail opposite of the stove. She picked it up and ran outside to the pump. Magnus began to unpack his purchases, which before had been left neglected on the table. The firewood went in a pile against the back wall, the ingredients for the soup went on the counter, and his own purchases stayed in the bag, which he would take back with him.

                Astrid came back in with the almost-full water pail just as Magnus lit a few cords of wood on fire in the stove. She dumped most of the water into the pot, stopping just before it reached the top. Magnus, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough space for the actual food going in there, poured some of the water back into the pail, explaining to Astrid the concept of displacement.

                Magnus pulled up a chair, knowing that Astrid might not be able to see down into the pot from her height. As she climbed onto the chair, Magnus began to cut the beef into small bite sized pieces, dumping them into the pot as the water began to bubble. He handed her the spoon, letting her stir as he began to chop up the vegetables. He held off on putting the vegetables in until the end; he wouldn’t want them to wilt too much.

                Taking a little of the seasonings out of each bag, he let Astrid do the honors of pouring them into the pot. They both took a taste of the soup, adding more salt and pepper when needed. Finally, the vegetables were tossed into the pot. They let it simmer for a few minutes before taking it off the fire and opening the stove bottom to heat the room.

                “Alright guys, time to eat!” Magnus called into the common room as Astrid set the table. He carried a bowl to Laura, and told her to take it into their father’s room, as he couldn’t come out to the kitchen.

                Lunch was just like lunch used to be; they would talk about their day as if Magnus hadn’t been missing. After lunch they took a break from the work they used to do; Berwald took a nap, Magnus began to teach Laura and Astrid needlebinding, and Preben watched Magnus attentively, gnawing on an apple. Magnus got the yarn and needles from his mother’s old stuff, it hurt a little to take it out and look at it after five years.

                Magnus considered teaching Berwald how to chop firewood, but with such an easygoing day, he didn’t want to impose too much work. He figured that the amount he bought should have been enough to last until next week, when he would then teach him. However, before he left he just had one last task to do: check out the fields.

                “What,” Magnus squinted at the barren fields, “did… you do…”

                Where dying but still green plants used to grow now stood only a plot of dirt. If one looked closely, they could see small spots of green sticking out of the soil, as if hastily trampled and then covered up again.

                Berwald looked out in the direction of Magnus’ gaze. “In order to grow new healthier plants, we need to take out the old ones,” He stated as if her were reading out of a textbook. “I took out the old ones, mixed it up with the soil to regain the nutrients, and planted new seeds.”

                Magnus grew worried at the idea of these new plants dying in the winter cold, but he trusted the intellect of his brother enough to let him do what he wanted. Worse comes to worse, he always got his paycheck weekly, and could buy whatever food they needed.

                As the sun became close to setting, Magnus packed up his belongings and began to get ready to walk back to the baron’s house. He hugged each of his little siblings extra tight, feeling his heart hurt at the idea of being nearly always absent from them. He hoped that it would only be a temporary absence, and that soon they may be reunited, when the farm grows again. With that wish, he gave Berwald the leftover money, and headed back to his workplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to hate when people were slow at updating, now look where I am orz but I'm already working on the next chapter so I have that! If you read the oneshot I posted earlier this month you'd see the giant end notes I wrote, I think that kind of explains my absence.  
> Btw, needlebinding is kind of like knitting, from Scandinavia. It only uses one needle instead of two.  
> Yeah and this chapter is mostly about Magnus and his family, because I don't want this ship to just be him and Sindre, the other characters need, well, characterization. The entire next chapter is going to be Sindre and his family, in return.  
> I realized that I don't really respond to comments, but just know that I read all of them and they mean a lot to me! I'm just really bad at talking to people and I put things off a lot ^^;  
> This is probably the shortest end note I've written, but I'm probably going to add to it later, right now I'm in the middle of class so I'll write more/edit later!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigurd = Iceland

“Brother, you really need to find a new hobby other than staring out that window. Is the view really _that_ spectacular?”

                The room had been quiet all day long until Sigurd poked his head in to make that comment. He had a point; Sindre rarely left his room at this house. It’s not that there was anything wrong with him, he was just content to entertain himself with things inside his four walls. Sigurd didn’t know about Sindre’s people watching hobby, so he could understand why his brother was confused with how he spent his time.

                Sigurd himself was no social butterfly, either. It’s not like he had anyone else to socialize with, and at the parties his parents sometimes threw he often stuck near the edges and excused himself early. However, unlike his brother, Sigurd spent his time in the library. It was an incredibly spacious room, bookshelves reaching the top of the high ceiling with a couple of tables and chairs in the center of the labyrinth of standalone bookshelves. It would probably be where Sindre spent his time, too, if he hadn’t already read all of the books when he was younger.

                Sindre turned away from the window and towards his brother. It had been a while (nearly since they first moved here) that he had really looked at him. The two brothers looked strikingly similar, although with small differences. Sigurd’s snow white hair lightly fell just short of his lilac irises, whereas Sindre’s cold sapphire eyes were kept clear with a pin that held back his platinum hair. Sigurd had yet to grow out of the habit of slouching, which, coupled with his age, made him perpetually shorter than Sindre. They both had the same general look of polite disinterest kept on their face most of the time, though.

                He looked back at the window. Today was the worker’s day off, so the fields sat undisturbed save for the occasional gust of wind that passed by and swayed the crops. “There’s not much else to do.” He meant to elaborate, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come to him.

                “I’m sure there must possibly be something you could do that’s more interesting than watching farmers all day.” Sigurd knew that Sindre had read all of the books, and that in his situation there really wasn’t much to do. Nonetheless, he wanted to try to get his brother to do _something_ other than stay in his room all day long. “This is going to sound rich coming from me, but have you gone to see the gardens? Maybe you could spend your time there instead of in here all the time.”

                Sindre looked down with a guilty look at the mention of the gardens. He had told himself earlier that week that he would start going for walks outside, yet never did it. He tried to come up for excuses for himself, but it was clear that he was just procrastinating. Maybe today would be the day.

                “I’ll consider it.” He stood up and walked over to the window. A breeze wove its way through the crops, howling against the window. A cluster of wispy clouds just blocked out the sun and didn’t look like they would be leaving any time soon. This was the ideal weather for Sindre: he wilted under the hot summer sun, but as the temperature began to drop and the sun began to hide, a walk outside might do him well. Seeing as how he had no reason not to, he decided to go for a short walk.

* * *

                As he stepped out of the house, he saw his mother lounging in a chair in the foyer, reading a book he knew she had read a million times. Surprised at seeing him out of his room, and seemingly out of the house soon, she closed the book halfway and called out to him. “Are you heading out somewhere, Sindre?” Her face was equal parts confusion and light shock.

                “I’m heading out to the gardens, just for a walk. The weather is quite pleasant today, and I don’t think I’ve explored that area of the estate yet,” he said in a polite, yet terse voice. He knew his mother would be surprised at him going outside, and wanted to cut the conversation short in case she tried to ask more questions.

                “Oh, that’s alright then. We didn’t hire a gardener, as we didn’t expect anyone to be spending too much time there. If you want, we can look into finding someone to tend to the flowers there,” she asked, seeing if he would show any interest. Even though he did like the idea of having a lush garden, he couldn’t be bothered by it at the moment. He needed to leave before he changed his mind and stayed indoors.

                “Yes, I’ll consider it,” Sindre said, already turning to walk out the door. His hand rested on the doorknob for half a second too long, not wanting to open it but also not wanting to stay indoors. Finally, he steeled himself, and pushed through the tall doors.

* * *

                 After spending so much time indoors, Sindre had almost forgotten what it felt like to have the sun warming his skin. Of course, after a few minutes, he found his formal clothing to be a bit stifling, and took off his outer jacket, leaving it on a marble bench, making a mental reminder to take it back inside afterwards.

                Not knowing which way to go, he started to the left, towards the farmer’s housing. He made a point of not actually going to the housing unit, but walking between his house and it. From a distance, though, he was able to get a good look at the small building. The first thing he noticed was its size: the whole thing was probably as big as his bedroom. _And they have all of the farmers living in that one building?_ It also wasn’t nearly as ornate as his bedroom. It was just a simple wooden structure. Sindre saw a figure inside move past a window and quickly averted his gaze in case it was the man he saw earlier. He quickened his pace.

                After a short walk, he realized that the left of the house was only the farming fields. As far as the eye could see were rows of tilled soil, and then at the very edge of the horizon was a row of trees encircling the land. He sighed, regretting not asking his mother which way were the gardens (and also for not knowing it himself), and turned back to go the other way.

                A much longer walk later, and he was beginning to get a little color in his cheeks. This was probably the most exercise he had gotten all year. By the time he reached the right side of his house, he was about to give up and head back inside, when he turned the corner and saw a slightly overgrown hedge bordering a metal gate.

                Walking closer, the gate appeared rusted and unopened in quite some time. It turned with a little difficulty, letting out a loud creak. Sindre poked his head through, not wanting to step entirely in. The inside began with a cobblestone path which started directly in front of him and forked out into two branches. Forcing the gate open the rest of the way, he stepped onto the pathway, grateful to finally be on solid ground again.

                Inside the garden, he was able to get a better look. The place had clearly not been tended to for quite a while: the plants formed a contrast between overgrowth of some and death of others. The pathway hadn’t been swept, and was littered with brown leaves, which Sindre crunched under his foot just to hear the sound. This space had clearly at one point been for entertaining guests, as there was another marble bench at the entrance, right in front of the split in the cobblestone path. Its glory days were long gone, however, as it was covered in moss and dirt. Sindre couldn’t tell if this garden always looked so gloomy, or if it was because the sun had gone behind a cloud.

                He walked along the right garden path, examining all of the plants. At one point, the path made another split: one direction going straight and another making a left turn. He decided to go down the left path, which led him to an outside seating arrangement for four. A small, white metal table sat in the center of an opening in the garden, with four matching chairs on each side. These chairs had also begun growing moss, like the bench at the entrance. Rose bushes with few flowers surrounded the area. It would have been a very picturesque scene, if it had been cleaned and taken care of.

                Sindre continued to wander around the garden for the next two hours. He took note of the different types of flowers which grew in groups, and tried to imagine what it looked like at its peak. It seemed like an area that he could see himself spending time in, if it were in better condition. The outdoors had done him a good deal of justice, and he felt much better than when he was stuck in the stifling house. Still, as the sun began to make its way across the sky, he headed back indoors.

                His mother was still in the foyer, this time with a different book. He spoke with her for a few minutes about hiring a gardener specifically for the old garden, separate from the usual groundskeepers who tended to the topiary. As winter approached, they decided that it would be best to wait until spring to find a gardener, since there wasn’t much they could do at the moment. He headed back up to his room to rest; all that walking had tired him out.

                Sigurd stopped him on the way up. “How was the outdoors? Did you get to see your potato fields up close and personal?” He jokingly mocked his brother.

                Sindre wanted to tell him about the gardens, but he also didn’t want to have Sigurd in there, too. He made himself seem uninterested, as if it were just any other plot of land, so that Sigurd didn’t take too much interest to it.

                When he made his way up to his room, he picked up his violin and played the same songs he had played when he first saw the farmer. He sat on his bed, wondering why he had taken such an interest in this young man, before taking off his boots and laying down.

* * *

                 Magnus expected to be tired when he got back to the estate after the three hour long walk, but he was so excited to begin tending to his own flowers that he didn’t want to rest. He cordially greeted the groundskeepers as he walked to his housing unit, humming a song that he heard the children singing in the market.

He began to slow down as he approached the space between the noble’s house and the farmer’s house, when he noticed something on a stone bench under one of the tall windows. Walking closer to the bench, he realized it to be a jacket, and a very finely made one at that. _Did someone leave this out here?_ It appeared too ornate to be one of the workers’, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who would come over to this side of the estate.

Picking up the jacket, he headed back to his housing unit. Luckily, Timo was just outside; he was taking inventory of the gardening tools. Magnus approached him, and before he could say anything Timo asked about the jacket in his hand, with a reasonable amount of suspicion.

“I had found this on a bench near the farming fields. It doesn’t look like it belongs to any of the workers, so do you know whose it would be?” Timo took the jacket into his hands, inspecting it.

“This is Sindre’s. You said you found it on the bench near the fields?” Timo asked, a puzzled look on his face. “It’s odd that he would be out there, normally he stays in his room. Anyways, I’ll be sure to take it to him, thank you. Was that also with it?” Timo pointed to the bag that Magnus held in his other hand.

He held it up, as he had almost forgotten about it. “No, I bought some seeds and food for myself while I was at the market today.” He caught the confused look in Timo’s eye and elaborated, “I wanted to grow some flowers here on my land, just as something to do.” Timo found it slightly strange that someone like Magnus, who was just an everyday farmer, would take interest in flowers, but he chose not to comment on it.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. I have to head in, and I’ll be sure to give this back to Sindre.” Timo nodded and headed towards the mansion, as Magnus went inside his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I haven't updated this fic in centuries. I haven't updated since February, 10 months ago. At this point, I can't even say I forgot to update. If you follow me on tumblr (formerly aph-dansk, now I'm sixfeetunderthealltimelow), you'd know I left the fandom around summer time, and became a band blog. I unfollowed all the hetalia blogs and started posting about atl, mcr, fob, etc. I was really about to leave this fic unfinished. But today I was procrastinating my homework (I still am, and it's 9 at night and I haven't started) when I was thinking of college and somehow I thought of hetalia. I was thinking about how I wanted to study abroad, and Denmark seemed like such a nice country, when of course I thought of aph denmark, and from there I scrolled down my blog (on the mobile app!!!) until I reached the time when I was still into hetalia (it took me 25 minutes of scrolling nonstop to get there). I looked through all of my hetalia posts, and realized how much I missed the fandom. And then I remembered this story. Then it took forever finding my folder where I had my fics (luckily I didn't delete it), and then read all of them (I have a lot of unposted drafts that I'll get to). And now I think I'm falling back into the fandom again. It was just so nostalgic, reading this fic again and then finishing the chapter. But I'm really going to finish it this time, even if it takes a while. I have one more week of school until winter break, and of course I'm going to write a lot then. So, for everyone who gave up hope on this fic, I'm back! As always, feedback is appreciated!


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